Van Helsinki - What If
by nototter
Summary: The results of a jammed M1911.
1. Chapter 1

Fay and Van stared at each other. Around them the sky was darkening, as if it knew that the Vampiric figure who had set the world at odds was gone, and it could relax into night again. Van was hunched over, more than normal. Fay looked at him. She saw the madness in his eyes burn and flicker, a fire set to burn against the world, as if daring it to try and extinguish the blaze within. She saw the strange figure walk away into the darkness, heard Van mutter to himself about a 'Red Herring Church'. Fay checked her Beretta. This time, they would kill Geoff. This time, he wouldn't escape. All this she saw in an instant, even as she stepped forward to stare the ex-cop in the eyes.

'Well I'm coming with you' she stated. There was no argument to be had here. But her comrade shook his head.

'No, this is something I must do alone. It's the place where this all began. And it's the place it must end'. Van's justifications didn't make much sense, but then nor had the past two hours. A thousand counters ran through Fay's mind: 'Why? Do you know what you're saying? That doesn't make any sense! You can barely stand' but all she said, in the end, was

'But we had a deal'. It was true. They had shaken. A pact had been forged. One did not break such pacts.

Van turned to her. She saw his arm tense, his fingers wrapped around the handle tighten. He spoke, even as he twitched.

'The deal's off'. Van jerked his arms up, forward. The Colt M1911 clutched in them raised, and as it did so, it pointed at Fay. Van felt no regret, no remorse. He pointed the barrel at her chest, and with Fay watching, but unable to do anything, unable to react, he pulled the trigger.

A dry 'click' cycled through the weapon. It failed to fire. Perhaps it had been disabled while he was unconscious, perhaps damaged in one of his falls. Perhaps it was not even loaded. But Van would never find out, never be able to investigate the Case of the Misfiring Gun, because in the moment that the mechanical click rang through the harsh night air, Fay raised her Beretta, acting more on instinct than rational though. And her pistol certainly was loaded. Fay squeezed the trigger, once, twice, thrice, four times.

Once. The bullet smashed into Van's ribs, breaking two. Somehow, he remained standing, despite the blood welling in his chest and mouth.

Twice. The second shot connected with his right shoulder. At this range, it went straight through and off into the night. A spray of crimson soared into the dark sky. Van staggered; he was hunched over from the first round, and this one snapped him back upright. Still, the man stood, defying the world around him.

Thrice. This round slammed into his upper left chest, around his heart. This was the round which dropped Van Helsinki. Pink froth welled in his mouth as he fell. Even as he did, with three ribs and a collarbone broken and several internal organs damaged, Fay could hear the sharp 'click click click' of Van's own gun. If it had been working, she would have died in that instant with him, in a hail of .45 calibre bullets. But it wasn't.

And four. The fourth was not strictly necessary, but with the last few hours of people constantly getting back to their feet, Fay was understandably nervous, and pragmatism never hurt anyone. Except Van. The fourth bullet enhanced the work of the first and third. Van's chest was now a mass of blood and broken bones. One rattling breath escaped his throat, then nothing. Fay waited a moment. The realisation of what she had just done sunk in. Then the realism of the situation came to her, and she blasted the rest of her Beretta magazine into Van's corpse, just to make sure. But the detective would never rise again. Van Helsinki was dead.

Fay prepared to run. She must reach the 'Red Herring Church'. She had not gone four paces away from Van's body before she realised, however, that she didn't know where the church even was. No matter. She would ask those who would. Fay retraced her steps, and not pausing by the bloody mess on the ground that had once been a man, she entered the gates to the house, and entered the door.

Inside, Woman was fed up. Given, she had finally ceased to be accused to being dead, but now Man and Jim appeared to be getting it on on top of her coffee table, and this was simply not on. She had told them as much, but they didn't appear to be paying much attention to her. More to each other. Svetlana sat beside her. The other woman seemed drawn into her own thoughts, pensive. Woman's recollections of the past day or so were hazy at best, but some of it she remembered crystal clearly. Especially being shot several times by the woman who now entered her living room. Woman jumped to her feet.

'Now look here-' she began, but the red-head cut her off.

'Look. I want to know where the Red Herring Church is. I'm going to find the bastard who did this, that Geoff Vampire, and I'm going to kill him. So tell me where the Church is, and I won't simply kill you all, burn this house down, and move onto the next one. That got their attention. Even Man and Jim looked up from where they had been drowning in each other's eyes. Woman closed her mouth, opened it again, then shut it. Then a thought stuck her.

'Geoff Vampire? The one dressed like a vampire?'

'Yes' Fay said with no little exasperation. 'He's at the Red Herring Church and I need to find it.'

'That way. Two miles.' Woman pointed. 'And I'm coming too.'

'What?' Fay turned to her.

'That 'Vampire' came into my house claimed to be a novelty themed stripper, only to bite me, dump me on a table and brainwash my housemate. I want him dead as much as you do. So I' – and here Woman pulled Man off the table – 'and my housemate are coming too'. Jim leapt to Man's side.

'And I. Where one goes, we both go'. Man and Jim linked arms, and started giggling to each other. Woman sighed in frustration. Fay nodded, mildly confused Then all four of them turned to Svetlana.

'You too?' asked Fay.

Svetlana shook her head. 'I've done quite enough today already' she said, settling back into her rather comfortable chair. 'After all, I'll watch the house'. Fay shrugged.

'Right, and now to deal with our mutual friend Geoff Vampire'. The band of four ran out of the door. Svetlana watched them go, shaking her head in silent amusement.


	2. Chapter 2

'Professor' Ford gasped in astonishment. She saw the man she loved twirl in the air, like he had done to so many other men before, and collapse. She saw his murdered, the 'femme', run first one way, then the other. Beside her, Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie swore, and wrenched the binoculars away from his eyes. Ford turned to her superior.

'We can't let her get away with this, Inspector. We just can't.' She had to fight just to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. The Inspector waited, thinking. It seemed an eternity. She could still see his body spiralling down in front of her eyes. She knew it was a mistake to let him go in alone. She remembered the argument her and the Inspector had had in the morning – this morning. It seemed days ago.

'He'll die!' she had screamed. Normally she was respectful, controlled, calm, submissive, obedient. But something felt up. 'I was there last time he saw Geoff. He went crazy.' She saw the Inspector giving her a strange look.

'Crazy? He shot up a house. With a family and a child in.'

'You can't prove he did that! You can't.'

'He refused to talk about it. It's clear, despite what you seem to continuously hint at.'

'With all due respect, I was there. I saw what Geoff was, what he did. And knowing that, I can't let you send Van alone. It'll kill him. He won't think straight.'

'We don't need someone who thinks straight, we need the job done. And if he can't think straight enough not to kill anyone, then he'll be off the force. For good. And, if I have my way, in a padded cell getting the help he so sorely needs.' Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie saw the drying tears on his aide's cheeks. He softened his voice a little. 'I know you feel for him, we all do. But you can't let this get personal'.

Ford stopped. Turned to face him. Keeping her voice level, trying her hardest to stay in control, stay calm, she looked the Inspector right in the eyes and said

'Personal? Why would this be…personal?' The Inspector snorted.

'Everyone in the force knows why it's personal. We've seen the puppy dog eyes when you think no one's looking. Hell, even Mr. Van Emotionless Helsinki himself has noticed.'

Ford blushed. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie didn't think he'd ever seen her blush. It made her look less…starchy. Less colourless. More human. Of course, he couldn't let it continue without question. Relationships in the force – well, that was a touchy subject indeed.

'He's dangerous, Jenny. You can't get too close to men like him. He's a point and clicker.'

'What do you mean?' she asked, only half wanting to know the answer.

'Men we point at the target and click to release. He's a human bloodhound. Can't be reasoned with. Can't be stopped. He's the best we've got, but he's a mad dog.'

'You don't know him like I do. The man has a heart. A hidden, armoured one, yes, but a heart', Ford protested. The Inspector shook his head, half-disbelieving, half-amused.

'I'll let it slide, but I warned you. I warned you' he said, and he was deadly serious. 'Now to business. Shall you ring him, or will I?' - he looked at Ford again - 'On second thought, I will'. The Inspector began to move toward the door, and the phone beyond. He turned back to his assistant for a moment. 'Don't think I'm heartless. I trust that man to do his job. I care about what happens to him.'

'I know' said Ford. Belatedly, she added 'sir'. The Inspector simply looked at her, then spun round to face the door. A moment passed, then Ford, a thought suddenly having struck her, hastened after him. Catching Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie in the corridor, she tapped him on the shoulder. The Inspector turned again, and looked down at her hand. She proffered a Beretta Raffica with a slide muzzle attachment. The Inspector paused a moment, and looked at her. Was she seriously suggesting that Van might need-

'The Office think you should have it. Standard issue sidearm.'

The Inspector didn't voice the sudden dark suspicions that had crossed his mind, of post-op executions and 'clean-house jobs'. The ghost of his fears floated across his face, and for a moment Ford shivered, as if she had seen a vision of the Inspector turn, raise his gun, and shoot her beloved down. Then he simply took up the pistol, and said

'Thankyou, Ford', then turned and went to make that call.

Ford was left standing in the corridor. A shiver ran down her spine, and, just for an instant, she thought of running to Van's place herself, asking him to take his car, pick her up and just drive away from everything. Her fingers twitched, but no more was done. Then the instant passed, and Ford couldn't bring herself to do it. Then she turned and half-ran back to her desk. She pulled open one of the draws and withdrew a compact handgun from the bottom of it, placing the gun in her pocket. Then she turned. If Van was going to meet them there, and the Inspector was going to have another brusque phone call with the monosyllabic Van, and if Van held by his usual washing habits, or lack thereof, then she would have just the right amount of time to call him before he arrived. They could have a long chat as he drove. Once, she had somehow tempted him out drinking. In the midst of a drunken moment, he had slurred a story to her, about how he sometimes drove in circles while talking to her, just to make the conversations last. She had wanted to press him on it, to make sure, but he had launched into a discussion of the finer points of the Harries Technique, and she hadn't wanted to interrupt. When she had next seen him coming into work, he had made no mention of it, and she didn't want to bring it up. But if that was what he said, and that's what he meant, then perhaps, just perhaps, she might get a half-hour of so with him before he arrived at the rendezvous point outside the village into which he was being 'pointed and clicked'. If only he didn't get so tongue-tied in person, looking her in the face. You wouldn't notice normally, because he didn't say much normally to anyone. But the talks on the phone, the endless talks she had with him, the confessions which had dribbled out of him like sap from a wounded tree, these were not the signs of a normal conversation with Van. But he just couldn't spit it out in person. Jenny Ford sighed. There was one thing which interested her. She still had never managed to get out of him why he called her a 'professor'. It was the one major thing he had never shared with her. When she asked, he deflected it, claiming she was 'a professor to him'. Perhaps she would never know. He seemed oddly insistent about the terminology, like you would be calling the Queen 'your Highness', or whatever one called queens these days.


	3. Chapter 3

Geoff Vampire watched the figures approach the church gates. There were – four, four of them? No matter, the Vampire thought. He scanned the approaching shapes for Van. Van might just be able to deal with him. But- and here was the other strange thing – he couldn't see Van. The Vampire decided to preempt things. He put down his keyboard, and tucked it under his arm. Then he strode forward to meet the advancing foes.

'Where is Van Helsinki then? Should I assume he is even now laying a trap for me? But that is not his style. Van was always a front-door man, so to speak. Always running and shooting. So where is he?'

'Dead', came back Fay's voice. 'I shot him in self-defence'. About her, her comrades looked slightly queasy, but still resolute.

'So the great Van Helsinki is dead. Killed by darling little Fay. Such an ignominious end. I almost feel sorry,' snickered the Vampire. Now there was nothing to stop him. He would beat these fools who challenged him, kill the pawns, and drag little Fay kicking and screaming back to his ruined machine. His timer might have been broken, but he could get a new one. And then, Stevenage beckoned. Geoff took another step forward. Fay whipped out her M4 fast as lightning, pointing the barrel at his chest.

'One step closer, and you'll taste real lead' she said. Geoff half-frowned, then, like a toddler pressing the 'do not press' button, he took one tip-toe forwards. At the same time, Fay sent half the magazine flying towards him. The bullets caught Geoff square in the chest, and he recoiled, the sheer impact throwing him off balance, but he stayed standing. Fay had a sickening flashback to Van, chest a bloody mess but still defiant, but unlike the ex-cop, the Vampire didn't even seem to suffer wounds from the metal. He laughed once, then strode towards Fay.

'First rule of Vampire slaying, darling. Bullets do bugger all' he exclaimed. Fay dropped the M4, and drew both her sidearms in one smooth action. Woman picked up the dropped M4 and brandished it like a club. Man and Jim thrust their baseball bat and mop forwards menacingly towards their foe. Geoff giggled slightly. 'I'm not going to hypnotise you this time, don't worry. I'm just going to kill you.'

'Come and get us then' shouted Woman at him. Geoff smiled.

'My pleasure'. He took a half-step forwards, then 'poofed' into a cloud of red mist. With another 'poof' he appeared behind Woman. She turned and the Vampire hit her in the face with his keyboard, sending her sprawling onto her back, mouth a bloody mess of teeth. Fay took a snap-shot at him and missed, then managed to empty her entire Magnum revolver into his lower back. The impact saw Geoff sent onto the floor next to Woman. Man and Jim laid into him with their blunt instruments. Geoff spun round, took the majority of the hits on his keyboard, and then swung out with the instrument, taking both Man and Jim down by the ankles. The three rolled about on the floor. Woman, pulling herself to her feet, watched from the sidelines and blood and curses flew from the fighting three. There was, of course, only one way it could end. Geoff was fresh to the fight, and while the tight confines of the ground-level fight prevented effective use of either bat or mop, Geoff still had his resilience and his teeth. He lunged in, tearing a chunk from Jim's arm with his mouth. Jim retaliated with a punch to Geoff's face which threw his head back, and allowed Man to get 'Franco', his beloved baseball bat, into position to strike Geoff under the jaw. Geoff, in fury from the pain, lunged for Jim once more, only to have Man shove his arm in the way of the snap. Geoff's teeth closed on his forearm, and as Man shouted in agony Jim brought his mop round to beat the Vampire over the head. Geoff released Man's arm, and as the mop swung a second time he seized it. Swinging the haft round, he smashed both Man and Jim away from him. The Vampire scrambled to his feet. Man and Jim also climbed up, leaning on each other. Fay attempted a shot, but before she could the three lunged for each other and the closeness of the fight prevented her from firing. Geoff slowly gained the upper hand. He seemed to be able to shrug off otherwise crippling hits, and the mop and the bat seemed to have little effect on him beyond driving him back for a time. Seeing the futility, Woman threw herself into the fray, wielding the M4 like a club, and sent all four of the fighters onto the found again. The other three were beginning to tire, but with Woman's entry Geoff saw his chance. He again grabbed the mop from Jim, whose grip was weakened by the chunk missing from his arm, and used it to disarm Woman of the M4. Geoff, on his back, scooted away from the three, pulling the M4 with him by its strap. Woman saw what was coming. She shouted, half in warning, half in terror

'No!'

Geoff opened fire. At close range, half a clip was enough. Before the gun clicked empty, the bodies of Man, Jim and Woman lay on the rough stoned church path, bullet holed and battered. Jim seemed to by lying slightly across Man, as if he had tried to block the bullets with his own body in the last moment, and the two held hands. Geoff threw the useless empty gun away from him, and slowly climbed to his feet. As he gained his full height, he stopped. Fay, face utterly devoid of emotion ,was watching him, pointing her P99 straight at him. Geoff coughed slightly.

'I much prefer big teeth over guns, you know. But in this case, it couldn't be helped.' If he was hoping to provoke an emotive reaction, he was to be disappointed. Fay stared him straight in the face.

'Go to hell, you bastard'. Geoff chuckled malevolently.

'I don't intend to. Though I'll be going to Stevenage if I have any say in the matter. As will you'.

'Oh, I don't think so' Fay said. Geoff took an unsteady step forward, and Fay, nerves already strained to breaking point, fired by instinct, hitting him in the neck. It seemed to do little to Geoff. Fay took a step backwards. The Vampire continued to advance. Fay backed away, until she felt the cold metal gate behind her. Geoff saw her face whiten a little.

'Nowhere to run now but straight into my arms now, my little passion fruit' he said. Instead Fay half-turned, holding the pistol in her right arm, and blasted the rest of the magazine at her foe while trying to scale the gates. The bullets flew around Geoff, some hitting, some not, and none having much impact, and as Fay slid down, the gates not offering much in the way of purchase, Geoff took the final few steps to meet her. He seized her throat in one hand, lifting her against the gate. Fay's legs kicked inefficiently against the metal railings. Her right arm grasped for something at her hip. Geoff smirked. 'No stake there, my little plum pudding concoction. I think you lost it when I bashed you over the head a half-hour ago. You really should invest in better quality belts and holsters than those thigh things of yours. Perhaps a bag of some sort' he suggested.

Fay choked, her vision starting to black out around the edges. Struggling had got her nowhere. With the last of her air, and unconsciousness closing in, she rasped out what could be her final words.

'Plum pudding this….bitch'. Even as she spoke, Fay thrust her left hand into a pocket. Geoff's eyes widened in confusion, then opened in short-lived panic as Fay brought a short metal stick out and angled it at him. She flipped up a covering lever with her thumb, holding it open and then pressed the button underneath. A spring-loaded blade shot out from one side, firing into Geoff's chest. He screamed, releasing Fay who sank to the floor in a swoon, and stepped backwards. Geoff's eyes rolled up, and the Vampire fell to the floor, first twitching, then lifeless. Suddenly the heavens burst open. Rain poured down on the comatose bodies scattered round the graveyard, and Fay, massaging her throat, crawled forward to check Geoff's body. He truly was dead. Her parents were avenged.


	4. Chapter 4

Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt just outside the Red Herring Church. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie and 'Professor' Ford leapt out of the vehicle, both with guns drawn.

'Freeze!' shouted the Inspector. Fay looked up. She didn't know these people, she didn't care. All she was suddenly aware of was that she was kneeling next to four dead bodies and the cops were closing in. Oh, and she had herself killed a cop earlier. Admittedly it was self-defence, but she didn't think that would hold up in court along with her testimony about the Vampire who murdered her parents. As the Vampire himself had pointed out, 'it's not as if vampires actually exist'. All this ran though Fay's mind in an instant. The policeman aimed his Beretta at her. She wasn't going to just let him do this. She had not chased her quarry for twenty years to be dragged down by the law just after achieving her victory. Fay leapt up, hands in the air.

'I know this looks very, very bad, but I can explain-' she said. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie advanced, gun raised. Ford followed him. Fay saw his finger tighten, as if in a moment of anger at something he had thought, and acted. She dived for her dropped P99. The Inspector fired as she moved, peppering her with stones kicked up by the shot. Fay grabbed the gun, only to have it blown out of her hands by Ford. Fay turned her dive into a roll and slammed into the gatepost, using it for cover. The Inspector and Ford retreated behind their car, and continued suppressive fire to keep Fay hunkered down. Ford shouted as she did so.

'Why?! Why did you do it?'

Fay curled closer to the gatepost.

'This is going to sound crazy, but he was a vampire-alien.'

Ford laughed, half-maniacally.

'Not Geoff, you moron. Van! You killed Van!'

'He tried to kill me' retorted Fay. Ford didn't bother answering, she just let her bullets do the talking. Fay shoved a hand down her top, and wrenched it out a moment later clutching a USP Compact. She leaned round the side of the gatepost and returned fire. Fay's first burst was accurate. She forced both the Inspector and Ford to duck behind the cover of their car. The Inspector turned to Ford, breathless.

'Damn she's good. Too good.'

'Better than Van?' The Inspector looked round at Ford. Tears shone brightly on her face.

'Never' he said. 'And we're going to show her that nobody gets away with shooting our best man. Nobody.' The Inspector took Ford's hand in his. 'Look, I'm not the best at this, so I'll be the stool pigeon here. After all, I'm wearing a bulletproof jacket under this.' Ford looked shocked.

'You're not suggesting-'

'Four rounds Jenny. She's got four rounds.'

'But you-' . But whatever Ford was going to say was lost as the Inspector stood up and unleashed the rest of his Beretta magazine at Fay. She cowered back into the pillar, and the Inspector vaulted over the front of the police cruiser, reloading as he went. Ford followed him to his position behind the bonnet of the car. The Inspector hit the ground at the side of the car with a fully-loaded pistol again. He got off four rounds, but Fay was ready. She fired, once to blast the gun from the Inspector's hands and again to smash him in the rubs. Inspector Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie was hurled back against the car front. He twitched, tying to crawl forwards to reach his gun. Fay leaned out to hit him, firing twice more. The first bullet clipped his leg, eliciting another groan. The fourth hit him full in the head. His police car was painted in a gristly coat, the last action the Inspector would undertake for the Force had faithfully served for twenty-five years. Ford leapt up. For the second time that afternoon she saw a pillar of her life collapse, gunned down by this woman. She didn't scream this time. Instead, Ford levelled her Glock and fired five rounds off. One caught two of the Fay's fingers, smashing them. Fay dropped the gun in pain, clutching her injured hand. Ford calmly walked round the car towards her. Fay snatched up the pistol in her other hand and levelled it at the approaching policewoman. Ford didn't even break her stride.

'Four bullets, bitch' said Jenny Ford. Fay pulled the trigger once. The gun made the same dry click that Van's had almost half an hour earlier. Then Ford fired again. The bullet caught Fay's left hand, still mostly undamaged, and broke it. Fay dropped the gun and rolled onto the floor. She scrabbled with her ruined hands for the gun again. Ford stepped on them. Fay screamed for the first time. It was a breathy scream, right down from the lungs. Ford twisted her heel, and Fay's scream cut off into a sobbing cough. Ford levelled her Glock at Fay's head. 'I hope you burn' she said. Fay half-smiled, even through the pain.

'Six bullets, bitch'. Ford stepped backwards, ad in that moment Fay rolled away. Ford squeezed the trigger, in the hope Fay could have miscounted, was just bluffing, but her count was true. The Glock clicked empty too. Ford dropped it on the ground, breathing more heavily now. She was an officer worker, an aide for God's sake, not some sort of action-hero detective. She was facing the woman who killed Van, who killed Geoff, who killed Someone-Who-Is-Not-David-Bowie. What the fuck was she going to do. Then she looked up, and saw not some sort of flame-haired monster with obscene gun skills and hand to hand combat to match, but instead a woman with two broken hands, suffering from blood loss, shock and exhaustion, who also didn't have a gun. Ford pulled her sweater a little tighter around her.

'Bring it, _Fay L__øren_' she said, pronouncing it the way Van had done, and putting as much hatred into it as she could muster. Fay bared her teeth. It had come to this. Two women in a churchyard, surrounded by the recently dead and the buried. The wind whipped around them, blowing their hair about. This was where the story ended. There was a brief pause, as Ford gathered her thoughts and Fay summoned her dwindling energy for one last push. Then the two came together. Fay lashed a long leg out, knocking Ford off balance. She stumbled to the floor, but pulled Fay down with her. Ford took the impact on her side, but Fay shoved both arms out from instinct, prepared to spring back up to her feet and take her opponent down as she got slowly up. She had forgotten, or perhaps simply didn't thin ,about her fingers. The broken exposed bones and flesh hit the stony ground and crumpled. Fay's arms gave way at the sudden upsurge of pain, and she hit the ground full force with her face. Fay saw Ford struggling up, and tired again herself, but her fingers refused to react. She tried another roll, but her legs gave out before she could get any momentum. The last four or five hours of energy had taken their toll. Ford climbed to her feet. She coughed once, then slowly advanced towards Fay. Ford pushed Fay's head into the ground with her foot, then hooked one arm and rolled her prostrate foe over onto her back. Ford stepped back onto her left leg. 'This is for the Inspector' she said, stamping down hard on Fay's face. Fay groaned as Ford ground her heel into Fay's face. Ford drew back her shoe for another stomp. 'Ad this is for Van Helsinki' she said, the tears running freely. She plunged her foot down again. Fay, fighting though the pain, thrust both arms up. Had only one set of fingers been broken, she could have taken the impact mostly on the other hand. But with both shattered, her action caused her huge pain. Nevertheless, she did manage to flip Ford, laying her on the ground. Fay sank back onto the flat ground. She didn't have the strength to do any more. Ford, lying next to her, sucked in a great mouthful of air to restore her battered lungs. She slowly climbed back to her feet again. Staying back from Fay, she walked back to the car, slowly. Fay watched her, unable to do more than turn her head. Ford opened the door, and took a cloth-wrapped package out of her side. She walked back to Fay, slowly unwrapping it. 'This is Van's gun. His personal weapon. His 1911'. Ford remembered him waving the thing about while drunk, with her worried it would go off and hit someone. Or he'd be thrown out of the bar. Or arrested. 'I took it from his…his body. I believe he last drew it on you. I'm here to finish his job'. Fay, lying on the floor, spat out a mouthful of blood.

'It's jammed, bitch. Or broken. I heard it go when they dropped him. Man and Jim. It broke. You won't shoot me with that piece of metal now'. Ford smiled, a slightly crazed smile. A Van smile.

'Oh, I'm not going to shoot you with it. Just kill you. Say hello to Colty, motherfucker'. Ford brought the weapon down on Fay's face. Again, and again, and again, until there was nothing left but bone and blood. Then more, until the pistol fell from her nerveless fingers. Ford stood up, clutching a bruised rib. She staggered over to her Glock, and picked it up, followed by Van's 1911. Ford walked over the car, slowly, clutching her chest and limping slightly. The rain was still falling. She coughed, opened the car door again, threw her bloody weapons onto the car seat, and tried to wipe the worst of Fay's blood of on her blouse. Ford then took out the passenger phone. 'It's all over. I got him. Nobody else made it'. Her tone was flat, emotionless. The Operator at the other end nodded.

'Now what?'

'After this I'm going for a drink.' Ford hung up. Then she reached into the back seat, took Van's crumpled hat from where it rested on the plush seat liner, and got into the car. Ford leaned out and shut the door. She shoved the hat onto her head as she started the engine. A viewer observing might have seen the look of hooded distrust in her eyes, and recognised it for what it was. The Creepy Man certainly did. He watched as Ford drove off from the scene, saw the police arrive a half-hour later or so, and saw the resulting investigation.

Jenny Ford always refused to talk about the events of that day. She was given special leave as a result of injuries sustained in the line of duty and the deaths of close colleagues. Two months later, she disappeared. No official reasons were filed, and no body was ever discovered. Her family still believe her to be alive to this very day. The Geoff Case, as the whole affair was dubbed, remains one of the great unexplained mysteries in the police force's histories.


End file.
